My battered body, cheerfully clanking its chains, swung on the rock. Vyer was practicing his chest shots. Gotta say, the guy's a pro. He wielded that club like a fucking artist. His strikes were insanely precise, perfectly calculated for force. One hit, one broken rib. Guess the boss didn't pick him for this gig by accident.
We chatted a bit. I figured I'd gather some intel, you know? I already knew a few things—like how demons have zero sense of smell. Took me ages to explain the connection between my tears and the pile of shit under me. If you think about it, it's a tough concept. How do you explain to a blind guy why you turn on a room's light? Anyway, I managed to convince Grok to clean up the mess. Lately, he's been a big help—cutting my nails, trimming my hair, feeding me, cleaning up after me, healing me… My own mom didn't care this much. Maybe I should go easy on him? Hmm… Nah, I'll probably kill him first. I'm not some chump. You always take out the healer first. I'm so confident because my training's going pretty damn well. I've got time to spare. No rush. My progress has blown past any expectations. Hey, maybe I should talk to their boss? Get him to make me a demon trainer. Why not? Work a bit, and maybe they'll let me go? Wouldn't suck.
I also learned demons don't need to eat. I kinda suspected as much, watching them day after day, but I was more curious about the biology of it. Grok said it's an effect of some magic spread across all of hell. That magic created this place—a prison for demons. Without it, their bloodthirsty nature would've wiped everyone out in no time. So, when the demons break out, it's gonna be a real fucking bloodbath.
This place is shaped like a spiral. I can't quite wrap my head around how space can be a spiral. We're not in a dungeon, are we? No dungeon's this massive—no walls, no ceiling in sight. Or is it? I couldn't get a straight answer. According to the demon, we're somewhere on the outer arc. At its end are the gates to the "normal" (relatively) world. The lord lives right in the center. Gotta remember to ask which way's which. It'd be real fucking dumb to head in the wrong direction.
I asked about their numbers, but got nothing useful. Maybe they don't grasp the concept of counting? Their answer: a lot. Fucking brilliant. If I had six fingers on one hand, I'd think that's a lot too. Should try explaining relativity to them. Though, they might already get it. When I asked about the smaller monsters, they said: a shit-ton. Those critters, by the way, are demons too. (In hell? No way… Shocker.) But their intelligence is rock-bottom. When Vyer said that, I couldn't help it—I laughed like a goddamn horse. He didn't get why.
While we were shooting the shit, a suspicious figure appeared on the horizon. Someone was definitely heading our way. Is our trio finally becoming a quartet? Noticing him, my pals dropped to one knee and quietly bowed their heads. Whoa… Big shot alert. Perfect timing. Let's talk about that job offer.
The boss—pretty sure it was him—looked badass. Like, seriously cool. Majestic, menacing stride. Built like a tank. Sharp, even by demon standards, red-and-black face. Bold bull horns crowned his head, with narrow, glowing yellow eyes glaring beneath. His body was decked out in wicked black demonic armor, straight out of Skyrim. I wanted to slap my forehead. Why… Why the fuck do you need armor here!? Got no other clothes? Look at the cute outfit Vyer made from my skin! Guy's a fucking talent! Open a clothing store already.
"We're honored to greet you, great master," Vyer said. "May we know what brings you to this far-off place?"
My eyes nearly popped out at his words. WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU? Where's that dumbass way of talking? What the hell's going on?
"We, your slaves, will fulfill any of your—"
Silence hung in the air. Even I felt awkward. Vyer glanced hopefully at Grok, but he acted like nothing happened. Meanwhile, the boss's face twisted with irritation. He glared Vyer into the ground for a few seconds before snapping:
"Will."
"We'll fulfill any of your will!" Vyer blurted. "Sorry, master."
"Great master!"
"Please forgive me, my great master…"
Got it… I feel you. I had a nutcase boss once too. Wouldn't wish that on anyone.
"So, what brings you to us, great master?" Grok asked calmly, earning a venomous look from Vyer.
"I need to blow off some steam. Everything's pissing me off…" the boss started, suddenly mimicking, "'It's all wrong…' 'It's not right…'" He switched to a mocking tone. "All like, 'Oh, look at me, I'm so fucking smart, and you're all dogshit…' Wanted to rip his head off. 'Where's the weapons?' 'Where's the money?' In your ass! None of your damn business! Then he's like, 'Every general on this arc's an imbecile…' Look at yourself, asshole! Struts around like a hobo and still lectures me!"
"Don't worry, your radiance," Grok said smoothly. "He's just too dim to appreciate a remarkable figure like you." Damn, Grok's got a hidden talent for ass-kissing.
"Shut it, I already know!"
"Sorry, your majesty. You here for long?"
"Nah. Tons of shit to do. Barely found a minute to let off steam."
I got curious—what kind of business do you have in hell? I didn't see Hitler around, so what's the deal? But I'll keep my mouth shut. Not exactly polite to ask a dark-skinned guy about his job.
The boss marched toward me. Yeah, figures… How else do you blow off steam here? Wait… Fuck, he's not into guys, right? Chill. Chill. It's fine. Probably just here for sadism. Thank God, that's all it was… But I'm about to disappoint him.
I mustered all my coolness, relaxed every muscle in my face, cranked my chill to max, and with total nonchalance said:
"Hey."
I swear I heard distant birds singing, that's how deep the silence dropped. Didn't expect my strike to hit that hard. The boss's reaction was gold—his jaw twitched at 160-170 BPM. Perfect for a drum track. Cue the chest and ass muscles!
"What?" he finally squeezed out. "What's wrong with him? What the hell have you idiots been doing?!"
"Sorry, great master…" Vyer started.
"GREAT MASTER!!!"
"Sorry, oh great master. This kid's different. We used a strong silence spell on him."
"What? What're you babbling about? What spell?"
"Wake up."
"Never heard of it."
The demon sank his long claws into my chest, ripping it nearly to the bone. I just whistled the DuckTales theme. It fit perfectly with the beat I was making.
"How do you break the spell?"
"We don't know. He cast it."
"Hey, kid, what'd you do? How do you break it?"
"Mmm… No clue," I said calmly.
The furious boss couldn't calm down for a while. My flesh flew everywhere from his rage. I suddenly realized I could die real soon like this. Good thing Grok was level-headed enough to stop my slaughter. It was pretty dumb to provoke the demon, but I couldn't resist. Later, I tried faking some pain, but I'm no actor. I'm not a chick—my performance sucked. Acting has its limits.
Then, mid-rampage, a blue notification window popped up:
/ Congratulations, your title has been upgraded! /
/ Endurer --> Sufferer /
// Sufferer //
/ Condition: Receive 10,000 points of damage /
/ Title Bonus: Regeneration speed increased by 400% /
-
Hmm… Now that's interesting…